psychological improvement

However hard life is, this week was suprisingly inspirational and I managed to spend at least the beginning of it without wasting time on unimportant things which are not related to my university work or my hobbies.
I suppose, it was the 2 months school practise that affected me so much. I could hardly stand the school atmosphere itself. Well, that's explainable: being in the same room with teachers yelling not only at their pupils in an irritating manner but also trampling on inspiring teachers' self-respect, convincing them they lacked teaching skills and could not be allowed to step on the schoolground.
Well, thank God, thats all over and now the dream of the past few months has come true and I'm again surrounded by people appreciating my knowledge and personality. Must say, my department is by far the best one, and people studying with me form a special community of those who I am totally happy with!
Speaking of which, yesterday went to see Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho with an old friend, who takes part in any activity connected with art, i.e. round tables, discussions, poetry evenings and new stage plays.
I didnt get that much impression from Psycho as a horror film, as the conclusion was easily predictable. So it all turned into a comedy for me. BUT, even after leaving the cinema hall and walking down the street I was still captivated and a bit terrified, so when a young man in a hood walking before me suddenly stopped and looked around I felt a cold stroke of horror in my chest and ran away. That shock was produced only by the look that Anthony Perkins, playing the main role of a psycho-killer, possessed. I have discovered a new interesting personality whom you might have discovered long ago.
Anthony Perkins had an interesting life, which was cut short by pneumonia caused by AIDS in the year of 1992. After long 9 years of grief and sorrow his wife Berry Berenson who wanted to be closer to Anthony was going to New York to visit his grave on the day of his death (September the 12th). It happened that trying to get closer to her beloved she couldnt even imagine she could be that close... She was one of the passengers on the first plane to strike the World Trade Center on 9/11.
It didnt let me calmly sleep at night. I was so inspired that I thought that that was the kind of death that I would prefer for myself.

Words, Wide Night - Слова

Somewhere on the other side of this wide night
and the distance between us,
I am thinking of you.
The room is turning slowly away from the moon.
This is pleasurable.
Or shall I cross that out and say it is sad?
In one of the tenses I singing
an impossible song of desire
that you cannot hear.
La lala la. See? I close my eyes and imagine
the dark hills I would have to cross
to reach you. For I'm in love with you
And this is what it is like,
or what it is like in words.
(Carol Ann Duffy)

Далеко-далеко, по ту сторону ночи,
на большом растояньи
я в мечтах о тебе.
Лунным светом залитые очи
закрываются снова во сне.
Как приятно.
А может быть горько?
Как позволишь мне это назвать?
Мои песни в убогой каморке
не желаешь услышать и внять?
Я пою - лалала. Ты не слышишь?
Ну, пожалуйста, я же пою...
Закрывая глаза, я увижу те долины,
что во снах прохожу.
Я иду, спотыкаясь и плача,
и неровно шагаю - лечу!
Мое сердце разлуку оплачет,
но вернувшись, поставит свечу.
Я влюбленная, ты это знаешь,
но не сетуй на глупости слов.
Все слова - лишь беззвучные буквы,
очертания смутные из лунных снов.

Turns out

people can talk about sex and they lurrve(!) talking about their sex life! (well, at least with me - grin-) Evidently they enjoyed talking about it even more than I did and that was why we spent 3 hours in the Club instead of set limit of an hour and a half. I like to think I made them feel comfortable and relaxed so that they could share their opinions about sex/love and prostitution. Prostitution and sex boom were two mostly discussed things and I left the EA office feeling absolutely happy just as if all my dreams have fulfilled. They actually have: I can do what I like doing most of all in my life again - I can help people and make them smile.

S.E.X. + Soviet Union = a bad joke?

Probably!
Anyway, will find this out this Saturday in the English Club, bringing it up as a discussion about the most controversial/widely discussed topic: Sex and Society.
Post Soviet society may have interesting points of view. Am ready to listen to theirs and share mine. I'm curious if anything has changed since the beginning of the 90s. With all that Cosmo/Playboy rush, it could have changed, but how? What is the modern Russian attitude to the animal instinct: if its still the same, reserved or maybe not?
Considering the fact people usually prefer to share personal information with friends, so I want to know if young people talk about sex with their parents. I know quite a lot of those who never talked about their sex life and never want to bring it up in a conversation with parents.
I suppose one of the most controversial topics will be gay sex and gay love. Do they have a right to love in Russia?
The main question of this discussion is however: Can people talk about Sex freely or it is still a taboo?
Promise to post the results later!

Russian contrudiction

its not even a secret that Russians contradict themselves. Every time! Every day!
Went to see the world-famous Russian ballet dancers yesterday, enjoyed their unique style of dancing, known as the Russian School of Ballet. Was surprised to see some of less praised than Ilse Liepa dancers who also partcipated in the performance and did their best!
There was a very gifted girl who outshined even the Ilse. She was marvellous permorming a passionate Eastern lover and an exquisite black swan from the Swan Lake. I loved her plastic and the way she could feel the music and express it in her dance.
Liepa was as beautiful and gracious as a wild doe in her silk dress highlighting her plastic and flexible body which, as it seemed, had a life of its own, so that her passion expressed on the stage looked so natural and captivating.
But, staging of Mozart's Requiem was the best thing I'd ever seen in my whole life! I was bewitched and completely absorbed by a young man doing all the impossible pas, and was puzzled if he got so much power from his red tight ballet wear, from the audience or from the music, or was it in himself that made the concert hall stant still?
Right after the performance on the way home still impressed and having that sweet aftertaste in my body, had to face the reality of the Russian Life, i.e. streets filled with drunkards and their wives moaning around apologizing for nothing taking them home by hand destined to listen to their usual cursing.
Why? How? How is that possible in the country of the HIGHEST culture, in the country of ballet and music, in the country where everything is filled with poetry?